


Mud, Logs and Paws

by poor_dumb_killian, Zengoalie



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5001850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poor_dumb_killian/pseuds/poor_dumb_killian, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zengoalie/pseuds/Zengoalie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan moves to a small town in Maine and tries to avoid depending on her neighbor to show her the ropes of lake living</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mud, Logs and Paws

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AtOnceUponSomeChaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtOnceUponSomeChaos/gifts).



> Happy (belated) birthday KK!!! So we really tried to keep them in character, but in this new little universe where Killian wears flannel and owns a Golden Lab named Bruce. We have almost 10K of this written, but no clue how long it's actually going to be at this point!! So, here's part one!

Killian reeled in his line and cast further in towards the lily pads, hoping for a bass to strike. He’d been sitting in his canoe as the sun rose, and now it was starting to warm up enough to make him want to shed his outer flannel shirt. The lapping of the water against the side of the boat was the perfect soundtrack to meditate; not brood.

He definitely wasn’t brooding.

He’d been holed up in his cabin in Maine after having his heart broken. When Milah had refused to leave her husband, he’d wanted to get as far away from romantic entanglements as possible. Finding the cottage on the shores of a small lake in Maine seemed the perfect solution. Here, he was able to get his writing done in peace. With just his dog and no neighbors close by, he was finally able to move on and start living again.

There was nothing more mind clearing than getting up at the crack of dawn, quietly sliding his canoe into the water and paddling across the pond to drop a fishing line in and just be. Sometimes he’d take Bruce with him, but the rambunctious yellow lab found it hard to sit still and not scrabble around scaring the fish a majority of the time. He was perfectly happy to wait till his master returned to the shore, tail wagging in greeting.

Skunked on this trek across the pond, he reeled in and turned towards home. A bright yellow moving truck caught his eye as it backed down the driveway to the vacant cabin next door. He’d gotten used to his solitary routine, and it appeared he’d have to deal with new neighbors. He shuddered and hoped they’d keep to themselves.

* * *

 

When Emma moved to Storybrooke, Maine and bought a little cabin by a lake she thought she may have officially lost her mind. In the years since she left her last group home, she’d bounced around a lot, never settling in one spot. She hoped a total change in location would help give her a fresh start.

Her hectic new deputy job hadn’t allowed her a chance to get settled or even finish unpacking. Being the new hire meant she got stuck with the worst of the overnight shifts. It was well into her second week before she even got a glimpse of her next door neighbor.

At the first chance of any real downtime she began to unpack. She rummaged through her cardboard boxes, digging for something to decorate her new living room. She pulled out a picture of her standing in front of the Statue of Liberty and stood to place it on the mantel. Her hand froze in mid-air when she glanced out the picture window and saw him standing in his canoe.

He had on well-worn jeans, a grey henley and dark, blue flannel with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. His hair was dark and perfectly disheveled - like he had a habit of running his fingers through it. He peeled the flannel from his shoulders and she was drawn to the window, unpacking forgotten, as she was riveted by his shirt stretching across his chest.

He wiped his brow with the sleeve before settling back in his seat and reaching for his fishing pole. She gulped hard as she watched his forearms flex from the force of his cast.

The mountain man look was a refreshing change of pace. She had moved from big city to big city over the last ten years and was sick of the hipsters and power suits that littered her view every day.

Years ago she gave up on the idea of being in a happy relationship. She had been left behind so many times, it was better if she just didn’t make any attachments. But she could certainly enjoy a good view, and her new neighbor definitely fit that description (and then some).

She hoped for her sake, he kept to himself.

* * *

 

He had noticed the yellow VW bug parked in front of the cabin over the last couple of weeks, but hadn’t managed to catch a glimpse of it’s actual owner. Whoever they were, they had a strange schedule. Not that he was trying to be a nosy neighbor, mind you; he just had a perfect view of their shared driveway from his desk in his office. He could see the flash of the car’s roof down the path where it split off to the right, down towards the neighboring cottage.

The newcomer came home at all hours of the night, and he had yet to see them out during the daytime. He kept to his own routine, but couldn’t shake the odd feeling of being watched while he fished.

Part of him was eternally grateful for his neighbor’s vampire tendencies, he had hoped they would leave him be. But, the longer the silence went on, the more curious he grew.

Then, three weeks after the moving trucks dropped off her belongings she finally graced the outdoors with her presence.

One mystery solved, it was a _woman_.

The first thing he saw, as he sat in the comfort of his screened-in porch, was the gold of her hair as it caught the sun when she stepped out from the shade of the trees surrounding her home. She was dragging a lounge chair behind her and it had caught on the root of a nearby tree. He could hear her cursing drift across the cove and had to bite back a chuckle.

She was a vision. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, leaving her curls to cascade behind her and swing with her motions. He could see what looked like a bikini peeking out from under her white sundress and he hoped to every god that ever existed that she would unveil what was beneath the dress.

He may not be interested in opening his heart up, but he was only a man and this woman was bloody beautiful. He could enjoy the view without risking any damage to his heart.

She looked around the lake and cast a glance in the direction of his house before gripping the bottom of her dress and pulling it over her head. He felt his breath catch as all of her creamy skin came into view.

She had the longest legs he had ever seen leading up to a perfectly shaped arse. He bit back a groan as she tossed the dress aside before settling into her lounger and picking up a book.

Killian’s musing were interrupted when Bruce decided to bolt out of his doggie door and splash into the lake. He wagged his tail and barked, clearly asking to play fetch. Killian tried not to think too hard on the obvious flinch he saw from his neighbor when Bruce made his presence known.

The big lab continued to splash in the mud and woof softly in Killian’s direction, before he finally relented and stood from his spot on the porch. It took every ounce of his control to pretend he didn't know she was there; but he could feel her eyes on him.

“Alright you big knucklehead, I'm coming,” he said with a head shake.

Bruce barked again and started to wag his tail as he rushed around in search of the perfect stick. He nosed through the leaves, grabbed a thick pine branch and dropped it at Killian’s feet. The lab looked from the stick up to Killian expectantly.

He chuckled and patted his head before saying quietly, “Don't think I’m not on to you, mate.”

He threw the stick as hard as he could as Bruce leapt into the water with gusto to retrieve it. The lab bounded into the water and began swimming towards his stick. He chomped on it and turned to head back towards the shore before he dropped the branch. He seemed to anticipate Killian’s throw and already began charging back into the lake as he hurled it even farther out, hooking it to the right. Bruce paddled out to it and once again circled back towards the closest shore.

Killian’s eyes widened in shock as he realized Bruce was not returning the stick to him. With a gulp of panic he saw that the dog was making a bee-line directly toward his new neighbor. The one he would like very much to keep avoiding.

Bruce trotted up the beach, dragging the stick along behind him while streams of water ran down his legs and tail. He approached the woman and Killian could see the moment she realized that she was about to be soaked. Bruce dropped his stick and began to twist and shake a shower of water all over her. She threw her hands up, attempting to keep the bits of pine needles and bark from flying all over her face.

Killian dashed across the yard to reign in the enthusiastic lab. In his haste, he forgot he hadn’t slipped on his flip flops; only when he started limping over the sharp pine cones did he realize the error of his ways.

“Brucie! NO!” he shouted at the dog, pulling up and grabbing his soaked collar. “I am so sorry!” he spluttered, trying to yank the dog behind him.

The woman had leapt from her chair and was toweling down her legs from where Bruce had baptised her with lake water. She mumbled, “What the hell?” under her breathe as she scowled at Bruce; clearly annoyed.

“This is _not_ how I envisioned introducing myself to my new neighbor.” Killian shook his head, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Killian Jones,” he stuck out his hand, “And this is Bruce.” He glared down at the lab who seemed perfectly happy to sit; tongue lolling out, bits of stick still caked on it.

“Emma Swan,” she grasped his outstretched hand and gave it a firm shake. He wasn’t sure how pissed she was, but from the way she eyed Bruce he was pretty sure she was not the biggest fan of dogs at the moment.

“Apologies again lass, I’ll let you get back to your reading.” He turned and winced slightly as he tugged on Bruce’s collar. He lifted his foot and noticed a jagged slice across his heel.

“Your foot,” she seemed to hesitate for a moment before sighing and reluctantly continuing, “It’s cut, let me help you.” Emma reached out to grab his forearm, pulling him toward her lounge chair. “Sit.” As Killian lowered himself into her lounge chair, Bruce obeyed her command as well, promptly settling onto his haunches. She pressed her towel on the cut, hoping to staunch the blood flow.

“I’m fine, lass, it’s nothing.” He brushed her hand away.

“It’s _not_ nothing. Wait here while I grab a bandage,” she put on her firmest voice and shoved gently on his shoulder when he tried to rise out of the chair. She turned and made her way up the path to her cabin.

Killian sat back while he held the towel in place and took a deep breath. It was bad enough that Bruce had forced an embarrassing first impression, now he was bleeding all over her towel.

“This is all your fault Bruce,” he scolded his furry friend. The dog just continued to stare back at him and managed to whine and paw at the stick he’d retrieved. “If you think I’m throwing that bloody stick for you right now, you are sorely mistaken you mangy mutt.”

Emma hurried back, more clothed than her last appearance; she’d taken the time to throw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Killian ignored the stab of disappointment, but had to admit she looked just as attractive in her worn looking t-shirt as she did in her bathing suit.

She knelt down and inspected the bottom of his foot. She dipped the bandage in the antiseptic she’d brought outside as she brushed the dirt and pine needles away as best she could. Her soft hand gripped his ankle carefully as she wrapped the gauze around to keep it clean for his trek back across the yard. He could feel the flush of embarrassment tinging his face.

“You really didn’t have to do this, lass,” he said sheepishly, “I’ve already managed to ruin your relaxing read with this furry mongrel.”

“Well, I couldn’t just let you limp home,” she sighed as she secured the bandage and stood up.

“Worried about me already, Swan?” he asked, unable to resist goading her a little.

She didn’t disappoint him as she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms indifferently.

“More worried about the lawsuit if that foot becomes infected,” she scolded.

He stood and balanced himself on his uninjured foot before bowing slightly, “Well I’d like to avoid any litigation. Thanks again for the bandage, Swan. And I promise you, Bruce,” he made a point to look at the dog, who perked up at his name, “will be better behaved from here on out.”

Who could resist the brown trusting eyes of a yellow lab? She smiled down at the dog and patted his head, “See you around, Jones.” Then she turned and swiftly made her way back up to her house, leaving Killian and Bruce by the shore.

* * *

 

Emma knew one thing for sure after meeting Killian Jones: she had to avoid him.

He was devastatingly attractive, and worse - he knew it.

She wasn’t worried about Bruce interrupting her peaceful days; it was his flirty owner she was more concerned with. Granted she didn’t get the sense that it was a ploy when his dog had shaken water all over her, he’d seemed genuinely mortified at the dog's antics. But too many men had tried some elaborate cons to get behind her walls; she wasn’t about to let her guard down for this one.

She spent her days avoiding him as much as she could, but that didn’t mean she had to stop enjoying her view from her porch as Killian fished from his canoe - which appeared to be his Saturday morning routine.

Seemed she’d developed her own routine of watching him. She hunkered down under her throw blanket with her hot cocoa clasped between her hands waiting for Bruce to leap into view.

She didn’t have to wait long.

Bruce sat patiently by the shore as Killian filled his canoe with his gear. He chose a different blue flannel today, it was lighter with an array of whites and greys.She imagined it must do amazing things for his eyes (not that she would ever find out, if she had any say in it).

Before long he was paddling out into the lake. He cast his first line as she sipped the last bit of her hot cocoa. She moved to set her empty cup down and pick up her book, but in her distraction she knocked the book off the table beside her.

The loud thump of the book hitting the porch echoed off the quiet lake, and Bruce immediately ran in her direction.

“Bruce!” Killian yelled in vain from his spot in the canoe.

Emma knew she was caught, there was no point in trying to run into her cabin. Especially as Bruce bounded up the stairs and sat happily at her feet.

“Hey you big fur-ball,” she said as she scratched between his ears and he immediately flopped onto his back for a belly rub.

“You know, Swan,” she heard Killian call cheekily from the water, “It’s bad form to spy on someone.”

She scoffed, “Don’t flatter yourself, Jones. I was just out enjoying the morning with a book.”

“Whatever you say, Emma,” he said. She could hear the smirk in his tone.

 _Great_ , she thought, _now Saturday mornings are ruined too._

* * *

 

As the summer days grew shorter, Killian was able to keep Bruce from showering his new neighbor with water or bothering her too much trying to get her to throw sticks for him. He’d occasionally see her on her lounge chair, or propped out on her dock enjoying the sun. She’d give a cordial wave if he was out in the yard, but his fears about obnoxious neighbors were unfounded as she kept to herself for the most part.

As he pulled into his driveway weeks after she’d moved in, he noticed Emma sitting by her back door with a toolbox at her side. He considered asking if she needed a hand, but she seemed bound and determined to avoid catching his eye.

When he jumped out of his truck, he noticed the top part of her screen bowed out ready to topple down on her own head. Emma was completely unaware of the danger so he jogged over to catch and hold it in place.

“Swan, this really is more of a two person job.,” he grinned down at her. He knew how quiet and solitary she was and felt a protective urge to at least be more friendly toward her. He wasn’t quite sure where these new urges were coming from. He prided himself in keeping to his own solitude - his few mates in town always ribbed him about his hermit tendencies - but there was something about Emma Swan that seemed to draw him in, and it was alarming.

She scowled at the door in front of her, screwdriver in hand, and mumbled, “Damn mosquitos keep coming in through this rip in the screen.”

Since it wasn’t directed at him he couldn’t be sure if the explanation was for his benefit, or just a general cursing for the door’s sake (or possibly a mixture of the two). “Let me lend a hand, lass,” he said as he reached above his head to anchor the top of the screen to the door.

His shirt rode up and as he reached to tug it down he caught her eyes lingering on his exposed torso. He couldn’t help but smirk at her open perusal; her skin flushed red as she turned back to the door.

“Fine,” she grumbled, handing him the phillips head screwdriver from her toolbox.

He gripped it in his teeth while he lined up the screen to the frame. As he made quick work with the screwdriver he wondered again on his strange need to help this woman. Sure she was beautiful and feisty, but Killian was not at all interested in any romantic involvement.

Love only brought pain; he learned that lesson years ago. So why did he feel this pull to her?

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer as he tightened the last screw and handed the phillips back to her.

“Thanks for the help, Jones,” she mumbled.

“Anytime, love,” he said with a grin, “I’m always happy to help.”

“I’m not your love,” she said as she packed up her tools and ducked inside.

 _No, you’re not_ \- he thought to himself stubbornly - _and no one will be ever again_.


End file.
